


like real people do

by mintpearlvoice



Series: real sad dhampir hours [2]
Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, alucard gets rescued, how to fix a psychologically shattered vampire, vampire scurvy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:20:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23075374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintpearlvoice/pseuds/mintpearlvoice
Summary: Hunters have convinced Alucard that he's a monster. Trevor and Sypha show up and rescue him and love him. With cuddles.
Relationships: Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades
Series: real sad dhampir hours [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1658422
Comments: 7
Kudos: 251





	like real people do

It’s not that bad. They only touch him when they’re rewarding or punishing him. He can bathe and change his clothes secure in the knowledge that he’ll have a few minutes of respite.

Meanwhile: this is the longest he’s gone without blood without being in hibernation, and it’s taking its toll on him: whenever he stands up, his vision grows all grey and fuzzy for a moment, and when they ask him a question, it takes a few moments for him to dredge up an answer. It’s spring, growing into summer, yet he’s cold all the time, shivering under the quilts in his huge empty bed. Every morning the lure of hibernation calls to him. Just giving into exhaustion, closing his eyes (which are tinged with bloodshot red no matter how much sleep he can wrangle) and never waking up. They wouldn’t be able to hurt him if he was in torpor.

He wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone else.

The burns on his skin from silver bonds, and now the silver collar they make him wear, haven’t got infected... yet. The skin around those places feels cold and numb, frostbitten, in a way that would probably worry him if he knew more about vampire medicine.

The other day his gums started bleeding for no reason. Ironically, tasting his own blood didn’t help him at all. It was just like water running over his dry, swollen tongue.

“With all due respect... this is the longest I’ve ever gone without drinking blood,” he tries during a break in a training session. He’s not used to the stitch in his side, the way his muscles ache. And... is he getting a sunburn on the back of his neck, or is that just his scars warming up?

Taka, looking up from roughly polishing a Belmont sword, gives him a disdainful, skeptical expression. “So? You’re only half-vampire. We’ve been feeding you. You just want blood so you can enhance your magic and use it to kill us in our sleep. You’re a dangerous creature.”

“No, I... something’s wrong with me, though. Really.”

“Like what?”

“I...” it takes work to even put the sentence together. “I’m tired all the time. Everything hurts- my head, my scars, my fangs... they ache.” That last word is a shameful whine.

“Tch.” Sumi shakes her head. “Do you think we don’t know what real hard work is? You’re tired for no reason, just because you’ve never before lost a fair fight.” She snaps her fingers. “Now you’re going to cook us the wild salmon again. Without oven mitts, because we never figured out how hot a metal besides silver has to be in order to burn you. That’s very important information. And no complaining, either! Just because you’ve had a privileged life and never known what pain and suffering is-“

“-we still know you’re faking,” Taka finishes. “We know what being hurt is actually like. What starving is actually like. Trust me, you look as well-fed as ever, because you’ve never had to struggle a day in your life.” They help each other up and sprint ahead, leaving him to carry the practice swords.

There aren’t many dhampirs. He’s the only one living. But there have been enough born for knowledge to be gathered, and something he does know is that his kind needs both food and fresh mammal blood. Is that why he feels so strange?

He gathers the swords up and trudges off after them. He’s almost reached his usual pace (just a step behind them) when-

“The castle doors are open. That’s not like him.” A woman’s voice, not pitched to carry- a human’s hearing wouldn’t pick up on it- with a musical, lilting tone and a note of concern. “You don’t think... something might have happened?”

“We’ll find out,” a gruffer voice mutters, and then “Alucard! Adrian FUCKING Tepes! Where the hell are you?” That one word is so loud it startles a flock of magpies from the trees. No chance of his captors (guardians, he corrects himself guiltily) not hearing it.

“It’s okay, we planned for this-“ Sumi says, and they both sprint off ahead of him, drawing silver daggers from somewhere in their clothes.

He could go right now. Walk away into the forest, drain a few squirrels and deer until he gains the clarity of thought to pick the lock on his collar. But...

Gritting his teeth with every step, he drops the practice swords and runs.

“See! I told you he’d gone feral!” Sumi declares as he skids into the clearing, her dagger at the ready. Unlike Sypha, she’s an incredible actress. “Don’t worry. We’ll get rid of him once and for all.”

Taka, nodding, his own dagger held up in a similar defensive pose: “he’s like a mad dog that needs to be put down.”

Hearing those words spoken in front of the two humans he loves best in all the world is an incomparable shame.

And then Trevor looks over the top of Sumi’s head and says: “Normally I’d be willing to except that, or at least entertain the idea. But the thing is, he looks like shit. His skin’s grey.”

Fire crackles to life in Sypha’s hand. “Did you think we wouldn’t notice you put him in a collar?”

At once Taka and Sumi began to back away from them. “We can explain,” they stammer, and “you don’t know him the way we do!”

“really.” Trevor takes Vampire Killer from his belt, running a hand over his coils. “Tell us what you think you know.”

“He’s a sick freak,” Sumi says, disgusted tears shining in her eyes. “He wants to drink your blood and tie you to beds and violate you and have you under his thumb forever.”

The way she says that... it sounds even more twisted. Alucard’s already-wobbly legs give out under him, and he stumbles to the ground.

“His exact words were that he wants to keep you. Did you know, he made dolls of you just so he could talk to them? Little dolls with button eyes. And he cuddled them, too. Because he couldn’t deal with being alone and not having the chance to control you.” He can hear the sneer in Taka’s voice.

What he doesn’t expect to hear is Sypha’s fireball roaring to an even greater size, sparks floating off it, like a campfire that’s just received fresh wood. “But did you do this to him? The collar, and the silver, and all his new scars?”

“He’s a vampire,” Taka says, scowling, like: why wouldn’t we?

“Right,” Sypha replies cheerfully, a sunny smile spreading over her face. “How about this? You have ten seconds to get out of our sight. If you’re not gone by then...”

“We’ll chase you.” Trevor finishes. He has one whip in each hand, his voice almost a growl.

They look at each other for an instant before bolting into the woods.

Grey fog clouds his vision. At once (is he losing time?) they’re at his side. Trevor’s big calloused hand on his forehead. “Shit. His eyes are bloodshot... Alucard, how long has it been since you drank blood?”

Blood. At once his mouth waters, fangs lengthening, and he stifles a whimper. He can smell them. Maybe he could just lay down in the grass, close his eyes, turn his face to the earth...

He flops over and struggles to curl into a ball.

“Fascinating,” Sypha murmurs, her touch gentle on what he’s assumed were bruises or a gravel scrape. “If we were dealing with a human, I’d say he had scurvy...”

Trevor dumps a bunch of shit out of his rucksack. “His body is eating itself. I’ve seen drawings of it, when vampires are given human food but starved of blood- let’s just say it’s not a good way to go. Old injuries re-opening, their teeth fall out, they can’t even move to drag themselves out of the sun. Killing them, when they were in that much pain? It was a mercy.”

“Can we save him?” She fumbles with the collar. When he winces- “I’m sorry, I’ll be careful, I don’t want to hurt you.”

A pop of electricity, and suddenly it’s open. Gone. Just fresh air on his burns. He can even swallow without pain, although his throat is too dry.

“All my knowledge is dedicated to killing vampires, not saving them. But if we can get him to drink something, it’s worth a try. Alucard, come on, roll over for me...”

Trevor touching him hurts, because even the weight of his clothes on his shoulder and his arms in their sockets is difficult to bear. Still... it’s what Alucard’s been yearning for.

He doesn’t deserve it.

He forces his eyes open in the blazing sunlight to look at them.

“Trevor- Sypha- I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what you must think of me. If I wasn’t under a truth enchantment at the time. I’m disgusted with myself for even thinking such things.”

“Save your strength,” Sypha says, a dangerous note in her melodic voice. She takes a tiny dagger from its holster. “See, Trevor? I’m-“

“Cutting the back of your hand, not the palm. Because the wound will heal quicker. I know.” He sounds like he’s heard this a dozen times.

“Please don’t do this. I’m a monster.-“

“A monster who would have died to save humanity. To save us.” And then Trevor is hauling him up to sit in his lap, and there’s the tiny sound of Sypha’s knife piercing the back of her hand.

Bright blood welling up. She smells like an orchard in summer, pears and apples and peaches. His dry mouth waters. “I don’t want to hurt you-“

“I won’t let you.”

Trevor’s hand in his hair, achingly careful. Like how he can be so precise when he’s balancing sticks to lay a fire. That kind of slow, delicate care. “Open your mouth for me? Please? I don’t want to lose you.” His voice breaks on those last few words, the edge of tears.

Trevor’s already lost his whole family... I can’t put him through seeing another person die.

Sypha’s blood tastes so fucking good. It’s a cool drink that chases away his fever and soothes his sore throat.

I need to be careful. I can’t hurt her.

A few sips of that impossible sweetness, and he draws back, shaking. “Please.”

“Please what?”

Trevor smells like unwashed potatoes and woodsmoke and autumn leaves. Alucard is strong enough to open his eyes without squinting in the sun, to see the tears on his cheeks.

And he’s strong enough to feel ravenously hungry. Need twists his insides, consumes his whole body, and Sypha is beautiful. Breathing heavily, full lips slightly parted, her cheeks flushed.

“I don’t want to hurt her. Sypha. She’s smaller than me... than most humans. Not that much blood.” Vampire venom dulls pain, encourages endorphins- encourages arousal. She might be weak from blood loss and not even feel it.

“Okay, so you’ll drink from me. Give me the knife.”

“That felt incredibly good,” Sypha murmurs-

And then the sound, and the smell, of Trevor cutting the side of his neck. It’s not a big cut, just reopening a scratch, but it’s enough to subsume his conscious mind under a flood of instincts. White-hot need. He tackles Trevor to the ground, sinks his teeth into vulnerable skin, and drinks.

Trevor tastes like.

Fuck.

He’s too far gone to even come up with a metaphor.

Something expensive, like whiskey aged for generations. Something important, like water to a man dying of thirst.

What is it that one human playwright wrote?

I love you as meat loves salt.

This right here is everything he needs to survive.

Sypha’s hands on his shoulders, the gentle heat of magic tracing his aching scars, coaxing the pain away. Trevor making incoherent shuddery noises under him, his throat vibrating with each stifled cry. “Oh, fuck, how does that feel so good-“

And that’s when Alucard realizes that he’s been rolling his hips against Trevor’s own growing hardness.

Fuck.

At once he’s on his feet, backing away. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry- you heard what they said about me, it’s all true-“

“Let me get these off.” Trevor holds up a lockpick. “They’re silver, they’re suppressing your healing, they’ll get infected, fuck that whole concept.”

He stands still with his arms out in front of him. Trevor working on his wrists- and Sypha suddenly flings her arms around him and clings, her body trembling with silent sobs.

“I’m a monster,” he tries to explain. “All I want to do is keep you. Keep you here, keep you safe- it’s all the same to me.”

“A monster who wouldn’t let himself drink enough to heal all the way because he didn’t want to hurt us,” Trevor says. And Sypha, standing on her tiptoes: “You are one of the kindest, bravest, best men I have ever known. Don’t you dare argue with me. We love you so fucking much.”

“We came back to make sure you were all right. That, and because shit got so bleak out there that visiting you was the only thing that could cheer either of us up.”

When the cuffs fall away, Trevor kisses his wrists. “We’re here because we want to be here, you skinny bastard. Let us take care of you.”

He can’t quite bring himself to say no. He tells himself it’s just exhaustion, just weakness, just the adrenaline after a fight.

But even so... they’re here now. Touching him. Keeping him safe.

Not the first people who have ever touched him like this, not the only people. But he trusts them to not let anyone else touch him, hurt him, again.

They run a warm bath. Not hot, that would be too much on his scars from the silver, but warm. He just closes his eyes and listens to then disagree about things while someone washes him.

“What’re all these bottles?”

“That one’s hair cream.”

Trevor sounds even more incredulous when he says “Cream for your hair? I’m sorry, what the entire fuck?”

“I despair of you sometimes,” Sypha says, giggling, and scoops a double handful of water over the scars on his chest. “Trevor, you know you’re supposed to wash your face, right?”

“Yes, with water.”

“Alucard... We need to rehabilitate this grungy, grungy man.”

It’s like they think he’ll disappear if they stop touching him, if they lose sight of him; he can think of no other reason for them to linger so close. Sypha combing his hair and humming to him and Trevor helping him put on clean nightclothes, dressing Alucard in dry cozy cotton like he’s a giant floppy doll.

They even sit on the edge of his bed when he’s falling asleep, talking to each other in whispers, at the edge of his hearing.

At one point he manages to lift up his head and says “I don’t deserve for you to be this kind to me... I don’t deserve this.”

And Trevor says, “Well, we want to take care of you, whether you think you deserve it or not.”

Sypha, her eyes all big and innocent: “I mean, we just got here. We were unable to save many people. You’re doing us a huge favor by letting us take care of you. We feel good about ourselves and about life again now.”

There’s some flaw in that logic. Something he can pick apart.

He’s just too tired to protest how good they smell, how it satisfies some deep-down instinct to have them back. So warm. So near. When Trevor lies down next to him, back to back and nearly touching, he almost starts purring.

Trevor, right when he’s falling asleep: “So what’ll we do if those hunters come back?”

Sypha, with a smile he can hear: “We will do nothing. They’ll trip the magical barriers I’ve set up and burn to a crisp.”

“You,” Trevor says adoringly, “are a bloodthirsty little bitch.”

And what she says next unties a knot inside his chest: “I mean, we have to be. He’s ours.”


End file.
